


Ménage à trois

by karuvapatta



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: IT'S REALLY HARD TO TAG THESE RELATIONSHIPS GUYS, Love Triangles, Multi, Pre-Canon, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-06
Updated: 2018-11-06
Packaged: 2019-08-19 22:08:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16543202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karuvapatta/pseuds/karuvapatta
Summary: Gabriel Agreste attempts to build a fashion empire.





	Ménage à trois

**Author's Note:**

> Obviously I know a lot about the fashion industry - I've seen _Devil Wears Prada_ at least twice, okay?

Whoever it was, hammering at his door, they were already dead. Or at least fired.

Gabriel dropped his stylus in irritation and scowled at the intruder. How was he to complete his collection if he kept being interrupted? These people had no respect for the creative process.

They knocked again, three times, polite but firm.

“Enter!” Gabriel said.

He didn’t know the woman. He didn’t know half the people running around these days, too preoccupied with his projects to bother learning their names. They came and went, anyway. This one was rather young, tall and slim, her movements sparse and purposeful. She wore a cheap suit, tasteful enough but not complementing her colouring the way it could be.

“I very specifically asked not to be disturbed,” Gabriel said.

“I apologize, sir,” the woman replied. “There’s a call for you.”

“It’s 10 p.m.. It can wait until morning,” he said. The only calls he intended to pick up at this hour were from Emilie, but she had his private phone number.

“It’s Audrey Bourgeois, sir, and she really cannot.”

Gabriel paused and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Very well.”

The woman handed him a phone and exited the office, its door locking behind her with a soft click.

Audrey Bourgeois didn’t take kindly to the delay and did not mince words while expressing her displeasure. It took a long time before she arrived at the point of her call, and once it happened, Gabriel was too stunned to protest.

She ended the call before giving him a chance to say anything – _Impossible_ , being the key word – and he was left in the silence of his office, staring blankly at the pages upon pages of sketches.

It was dark outside, or as dark as it could get on a hot Parisian night. Most of the staff had gone home already, the remaining few cowering behind their work stations when they saw him exit the office with a stormy expression.

His assistant was nowhere to be seen. He scanned the room until he found the woman who had brought him the phone, currently seated behind a shiny computer screen.

“Come in,” he said.

He didn’t miss the sympathetic looks others shot her as she passed them. His reputation was that of a difficult man, a perfectionist, a workaholic; and those were just the euphemisms. But the young woman was untroubled, her face a perfect mask.

“Sir,” she said.

“Where is Marie?” Gabriel asked.

“She finished her work for the day, told us not to disturb you, and went home. We take turns answering the phone when she isn’t here.”

Gabriel shot her un unimpressed look. “And who are you?”

“Nathalie Sancoeur, sir. Logistics and accounting.”

“I take it you drew the shortest straw,” Gabriel said.

She held his gaze without flinching and then, when it was obvious she had to answer, gave a curt nod.

“Well, Marie’s fired,” Gabriel said. “You are all fired. I am also fired.”

After a pause, Nathalie asked. “How so, sir?”

“Audrey Bourgeois is coming to Paris next weekend, accompanied by a number of other big names. She means to review my collection.”

Another pause. “Your collection isn’t complete. It was meant to be presented in September.”

“Mrs Bourgeois doesn’t see this as an issue,” Gabriel said.

He was startled out of his grim thoughts by a phone ring – the other one, his private. Emilie was calling, no doubt to scold him for working late. Again. It hadn’t been like this, but ever since Adrien was born getting anything done at home was impossible.

It rung once, twice, three times. He didn’t know what to tell her – that he took a colossal risk in trying to establish his own brand in a hyper competitive market? That he was about to lose his one sure foothold? That he couldn’t provide for his own wife and son—

“Sir?”

“Go home,” Gabriel said, dejectedly. “All of you. Go home.”

***

An hour past dawn, he took great care not to make too much noise when unlocking the front door of their flat. A quick shower and a coffee and he would head out again, but if Emilie woke up—

Adrien cried out, fear or hunger startling him awake. Gabriel rushed to the crib and gathered his son in his arms. It was strange that someone so small could make that much noise. But the way his eyes lit up, the toothless smile, tiny hands reaching out from between the blankets – that was nothing short of a miracle.

Emilie padded in, bleary-eyed and dishevelled, and quite possibly the most beautiful sight Gabriel had seen in his life. She gave him a kiss on the cheek before leaning down to check on Adrien, trying to blink sleep away from her bright green eyes.

“Breakfast, then,” she sighed. Then she scowled at Gabriel, a little more awake. “You as well. When was the last time you ate, I wonder?”

“Don’t wonder,” Gabriel said, kissing the top of her head.

“We’re not done talking about this.”

She fed Adrien as Gabriel made them both coffee, their coffeemaker loud enough to wake up the entire building. In retrospect, leaving home without her knowing was never an option. Besides, Emilie was impossible to deceive, her brilliance crumbling all of Gabriel’s defences. Even now, disappointed and sad, she managed a soft smile, her fingers stroking Gabriel’s knuckles.

“I take it you’re going back to work,” she said, resigned.

“Yes,” Gabriel forced himself to ignore the guilt gnawing at his throat. “There was an emergency. I’m sorry.”

“What kind of an emergency?” Emilie asked.

Adrien yawned and stretched in his mother’s arms. She tickled his little button nose and watched him giggle sleepily before burrowing closer to her warmth.

Gabriel drained his coffee cup and committed the image to memory.

“Nothing I cannot handle,” he said.

***

The news travelled fast in nervous whispers around the workshop. Not everyone came in this early, but a fair number of confused faces turned towards Gabriel when he walked in. Chief of them was Marie, already waiting by his door with a second cup of coffee.

“Sir—”

“I would like everyone’s attention,” Gabriel said. “Next weekend, we will hold a small fashion show for Audrey Bourgeois. Needless to say, this is our current priority. You will be notified of your new tasks by lunchtime.”

He ignored the susurrus of confused protests and Marie’s “But, sir, that’s impossible—” and shut himself in his office.

Now. How to make this happen?

So much had to be done: outfits, models, venue, lightning. Last night he had decided which pieces to showcase, but they were still a work in progress. His team could get them done in a reasonable amount of time, if they all agreed to put in extra hours, but they each required his special attention. He couldn’t split himself between that and managing everyone’s schedule.

Yet again, a knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. This was becoming a habit.

“Is it lunchtime already?” Gabriel asked coolly.

“Excuse me, sir,” the woman from yesterday said, unapologetic. “I selected a number of venues and people that may be persuaded to work on such short notice. Would you care to review them?”

She brought the papers to his desk. It was a good list, neatly organized; below that were model agencies, photographers, and a list of his employees arranged by how efficient they were in accomplishing certain tasks.

Gabriel read. And read.

“Is this a hobby of yours, Miss…?”

“Sancoeur. And no. This is my job, sir.”

Gabriel raised his eyebrows. Miss Sancoeur’s expression shifted a fraction, the tiniest hint of a smile.

“I never said I don’t enjoy it,” she said.

“I don’t remember hiring you,” Gabriel said.

“You didn’t, sir. Marie handles the new employees.”

The unsaid: _Because they rarely last long_ _and you terrify them_ hung in the air. Miss Sancoeur’s face remained unreadable.

He examined the young woman a little more closely. She was attractive enough, pale, with short dark hair and a single streak of red. The glasses obscured her eyes but he noticed that her make-up had been applied with a heavy hand, presumably to cover up signs of a sleepless night.

There were colourful markers on his desk. He circled names and places on the lists and then handed them back to her.

“Start calling, Miss Sancoeur.”

“Yes, sir.”

***

If the show wasn’t a success, Gabriel was a dead man. For one thing, he’d never be able to pay for the amount of overtime hours his team clocked in over the weekend and almost every night thereafter.

On Monday, the models flocked into the workshop for preliminary measurements. Tuesday morning, there was a knock on his door as he drank through a second cup of coffee while a frantic Marie tried to keep his previous commissioner from suing him.

“If you have an hour to spare, sir, there’s a cab waiting that’ll drive you to a possible location,” the woman from before said; Gabriel was too tired to remember her name at the moment.

“Thank you,” he said.

The coffee was gone. The venue was acceptable – nothing short of spectacular could make an impression on Audrey, but it was the best they could do on such short notice. The price was reasonable as well, even if he had a feeling that most of the negotiations took place long before he got there.

None of the framing would matter, however, if the clothes themselves did not deliver. Gabriel was confident in his own creations, but so much could go wrong between his vision and the final product; so many details needed to be worked out. In this, he was alone – alone, but focused and uninterrupted. He appreciated that.

Friday evening was a flurry of last-minute preparations, a steady stream of coffee, and a lot of swearing. The accounting woman was standing by the coffee machine, jabbing the buttons in a robot-like manner while her eyes remained glued to the screen of a laptop she had precariously balanced on her free arm.

“A word, please,” he told her.

“Sir.”

She followed him to his office and finally looked up from the screen, having navigated the workshop while her attention was elsewhere.

“Barring a major catastrophe, we should be set for tomorrow,” she said.

“I do hope so,” Gabriel said. “There is much on the line.”

The obvious statement required no comment, and so she provided none.

“You will personally supervise the event,” Gabriel said.

That had her blink her eyes – once, twice, and then the neutral expression was back in place.

“Sir, I do not think—”

“As you organized most of it, I fail to see how that’s surprising,” Gabriel snapped, his patience worn thin by the stress. “And you will wear this. Paolo will make sure it’s a perfect fit.”

Red turtleneck and a tailor-made navy blue suit would satisfy Gabriel’s (and Audrey’s) sensibilities, while not straying too far from the woman’s own sense of fashion. If she had any complaints, she wisely kept them to herself.

“Thank you,” she said.

“You’re welcome,” Gabriel said. “Miss…?”

A tiniest sigh. “It’s Nathalie, sir. Nathalie Sancoeur.”

This time, he would make sure to remember.

***

It was hard to stay nervous with Emilie by his side. Adrien had to stay behind with a nanny. Young as he was, bright lights and loud noises would terrify him. But his wife was there, smiling and radiant, wearing a dress of Gabriel’s own design and one of his personal favourites. She could be charming when he was not, easily winning him points with the Americans that accompanied Audrey.

Emilie held his hand when the lights went out. His work was stellar and the show went off without a hitch, Nathalie staying behind the curtains to ensure it would be so. He noticed a number of nodding heads, appreciative glances, even a complimentary whisper – he squeezed Emilie’s hand and smiled in the darkness.

Afterwards, he received Audrey’s begrudging approval and had the chance to schmooze with her companions. The woman was volatile, swinging between enthusiasm and disgust at an alarming notice, but she could get his name out there; she already had. The article she promised him could be the break he had been waiting for.

“Marvellous work, my dear Gabriel!” she exclaimed, kissing both his cheeks and seemingly unaware of Emilie’s narrowing eyes. “I always believed in you!”

“This wouldn’t happen without your support,” Gabriel replied.

“Naturally, naturally,” Audrey smile turned sharp. “And Emilie! How wonderful to see you. When will you start acting again?”

Emilie’s charming expression would fool almost anyone. “Our son is still very young, Mrs Bourgeois. He requires constant attention.”

“Ah, I see—children are so demanding, aren’t they? Luckily, my Cleo is a little angel! Her nannies tell me she’s exceptionally intelligent for her age.”

“I’m sure she is,” Emilie said.

Once the conversation turned to business, Nathalie materialised next to him to memorize the necessary details. She nodded in greeting; at the sight of her, Emilie’s eyes widened and her grip tightened around Gabriel’s elbow.

“Mrs Agreste,” Nathalie said.

“Nathalie!” Emilie said. She remembered herself quickly but Gabriel could tell something was off. Not in a bad way – her smile was much more genuine than the one she directed at Audrey – but off nonetheless.

“This is my assistant,” Gabriel introduced her to the circle of critics and designers, and thus ensured she would be immediately forgotten by anyone other than their own outer circle of assistants. The industry seemed to thrive on those.

***

He welcomed the end of the show with an inward sigh of relief. A limo pulled up to drive Audrey to the nearest helipad; the Americans dispersed. Gabriel remained, squeezing hands and kissing knuckles until the guests were gone.

“It was amazing,” Emilie said, pecking his cheek. “I’m proud of you.”

Gabriel smiled and hoped his blush wouldn’t be too noticeable.

“We paid the nanny already,” he murmured, resting his forehead against hers. “We might as well go out and celebrate.”

“I’d love that,” Emilie whispered back.

They separated. As if on cue, Nathalie appeared.

“Hey,” Emilie said. The other woman’s expression remained stoic, even as Emilie pecked her cheek in greeting. “It’s been so long… I had no idea you were Gabriel’s new assistant.”

“I didn’t know, either,” Nathalie said drily.

“We can discuss it on Monday,” Gabriel said. “I don’t suppose you could find us a restaurant…?”

“You have a table at Le Cinq,” Nathalie said. “The cab will be here in ten minutes.”

Emilie laughed. “You really haven’t changed,” she said fondly.

There was something curious in Nathalie’s eyes when she looked at Emilie. If Gabriel hadn’t come to know the woman, he’d say it was actual emotion.

“I’ll see to the rest. Good evening to you, sir. Mrs Agreste.”

***

Over dinner – and heavens, Nathalie went all out; the place was _expensive_ – they chatted about everything and nothing. It had been too long since they shared a meal just between the two of them.  Or at all, really, given how much Gabriel had been working.

“You know Nathalie?” Gabriel asked sometime between first and second bottle of wine.

Emilie shot him a long look over the rim of her glass. “We were friends, once. And then we dated for a while.”

He sat there, stunned.

“I didn’t know,” he said, hoping the lengthy silence wouldn’t come off as awkward. He had been meaning to ask her out for week – months – before he finally worked up the courage (and even then, Emilie did most of the talking for him). It became something of a running joke in his social circle. Never in that time did he hear about her being in a relationship, much less with another woman.

“Back then, my agent thought it’d be a better idea to keep this a secret,” she sighed. “And Nathalie likes secrets.”

“You never mentioned her.”

“We drifted apart after she broke up with me,” Emilie said.

“ _She_ broke up with _you_?” It was a wild concept, an insane one; Gabriel was done for the second he saw Emilie’s smile. No one would ever willingly part with someone like her.

“It was surprising, true,” Emilie laughed. “Things were actually going so well between us.”

“I changed my mind,” Gabriel said. “I’m not going to work with someone who broke your heart.”

Face split with a grin, Emilie took his hand and ran her thumb over his knuckles. It chased a pleasant shiver down Gabriel’s spine.

“You’re being way too dramatic, as always,” she said. “Me and Nathalie were never that serious. I first asked her out because she wouldn’t stop pining after some moron, and things escalated from there. Besides,” her smile turned softer. “You appeared shortly after that. I didn’t have time to nurse a broken heart.”

“So I was your rebound,” Gabriel said.

“No,” Emilie replied softly. “You were a revelation.”

He didn’t want to have this conversation in a restaurant, no matter how classy its interiors. With the way she held him, the way she looked at him – he wanted to be home, and in their own bedroom.

***

Monday, 8 o’clock sharp, Nathalie was waiting in his office.

“I cannot work for you, sir,” she said. “This arrangement was temporary. I’m sure Mrs Agreste has told you why.”

“She has,” Gabriel said.

He tried very hard _not_ to think about this woman kissing his wife. Not that he minded meeting Emilie’s exes, it was just that the mental image was rather – distracting.

He forced himself to concentrate.

“I am aware of my… faults, Nathalie,” he said, turning towards her. “But I think you understand how important this company is to me. Right now we are in a very fragile period. I need someone like you—” he hesitated. “I need _you_ , if we are to succeed. So, please – think again.”

“I’ll consider it,” Nathalie said stiffly. “Sir.”

“That’s all I ask.”

***

They were walking side-by-side, enjoying the view – or trying to, from behind a million tourists. Emilie’s yellow hair danced in the wind; little Adrien cooed peacefully in his stroller.

He got off the phone with Nathalie and pocketed it. He had at least an hour, barring an emergency, to enjoy his lunchbreak.

The best way to start was to wrap an arm around Emilie’s waist and breath in the scent of her shampoo.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked, if only to hear the sound of her voice.

Emilie returned the half-embrace, pushing Adrien’s stroller with one hand.

“I think I solved a little mystery,” she said. “Of why Nathalie broke up with me. And the identity of her mysterious crush.”

Gabriel stiffened. The situation was difficult at times. Nathalie was his best employee, true, but she was still that: an employee. Discussing her personal life felt like crossing some boundaries.

“I don’t think I should ask,” he said.

“I wasn’t going to tell you,” Emilie replied lightly. “It’s not my secret to tell.”

He smiled at her; how could he not?

“Keep your secrets, then,” he said.

They kissed by the Seine. Life was good. It was so easy to imagine it always would be.


End file.
